


Walking in Parallel

by turnedherbrain



Category: Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury, Humans (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attraction, F/M, First Meetings, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: In a parallel world, Leo and Mattie meet by chance – or is it?





	Walking in Parallel

Sleep eat patrol repeat, sleep eat patrol repeat.

Sleep eat patrol repeat, sleep eat patrol repeat.

That was the regular rhythm of his steps as he patrolled the streets, the dusk clouds blurring the once-bright sky. How long had he been doing this? How long had he kept law and order, kept the city’s citizens safe in their secure homes in their nondescript existence? The sound of his feet treading the same path dulled his mind and lulled his senses.

But tonight was different. Around curfew, sometimes he spotted teenaged lovers disappearing down lanes, hot hands sweetly curled together with longing. To these, he gave a cursory nod, and they fled, frightened by the badge he wore, the badge that gave him authority.

But tonight. Tonight was different. Rounding a corner on the deserted street, he saw the usual view of houses locked up, windows shut tight. Then suddenly he collided with another walking form.

He knew her. She was his neighbour. He’d heard her music at night, the lights on and the windows open. Disregarding peace and safety, for all to see. He knew her. But he’d never seen her up close.

In this dimming twilight hour, she stood before him casually, not affecting surprise, or running away. It was… disturbing. And it re-awoke something deep within him. A kernel of something more than rebellious. A thing he’d not wanted to disturb.

‘You’re meant to be inside.’ He spoke sternly, making use of their height difference to persuade, subdue.

‘There’s no law against walking.’ She spoke simply, but with an edge of mockery in her voice.

‘It’s almost curfew. You shouldn’t be…’

She cut him off. ‘… out walking? Yes, you said. In that case, you’d better accompany me home. Do they allow that kind of behaviour?’

‘Who?’ he was confused by her unassailable manner.

‘Your superiors. If you have superiors. Or are they all just machines with voices that blurt commands?’ Now, there it was. _Unmistakeable_ mockery. And the strangest thing: he didn’t mind. Didn’t mind this affront to his command. He welcomed it; sucked it in, held onto it tight. It gave him life. It gave him energy, in an effervescent flood.

‘I have human superiors. You should know that. Everyone knows the chain of command. But I can walk you home. Your house is next to mine…’

‘Oh, you’d noticed?’ she chided slyly, taking deliberate pleasure in mocking him.

He _had_ noticed. He couldn’t deny it, and remain truthful. He recalled how she’d lounged against the open window, the curtains opening and billowing apart as she threw her head back against the frame, taking pleasure from the night air as it lapped in invisible waves about the house. Every other home in the neighbourhood was closed up, air-con on.

Having assented to her wish, they walked back to her home, footsteps falling into unison as they step-step-stepped, walking in parallel. A mere half-foot of only air separated them.

They didn’t speak, but he could sense that she wanted to say something: that she was holding back from saying it.

When they reached her front porch, she turned to him again. ‘Thank you. I mean, really. No joke. I just… I just wanted to talk to someone. You don’t know how crazy it gets…’

 _I do._ He wanted to say out loud. _I really do._ But he didn’t. Instead, he let himself nod cursorily, giving only the faintest effort to his movement. He couldn’t let himself cave in to temptation. He didn’t know her, not really.

But he wanted to.

…

Every evening after that first evening, they would meet – collide – on that same street corner. He began to time his stride so that he’d be there at the exact same moment. He didn’t know what she did before or after meeting him – those hours while he patrolled the streets, looking out for vagabonds, dissidents, synths. Removing any layer of the community that was no longer needed.

He feared that she belonged to the same class of people; that walking with her was akin to a creeping blight that would eventually affect him too. But still, he did it: accompanied her home night after night after night, like some gentlemanly gesture from a former age.

Every moment he spent with her, life was let in through the cold, hard defences he’d built up.

Sleep eat patrol, meet, repeat.

Sleep eat patrol, meet, repeat.

**_Sleep._ **

He dreamt of her. They were together, the dew-wet grass of the field flattening under their feet as they walked. They came to a riverbank, where the water was too deep, the current too swollen, for them to cross. So instead, they sat by the riverside for a while, watching the sun dip and blaze its light across the dark water, scattering silver streams of light.

‘Do you want me to walk you home?’ he asked.

‘No. I’d like us to stay here,’ she replied with calm intent. Her face was screwed up, confronting the fading light. ‘I don’t want to go back.’

‘We have to,’ he reprimanded her, thinking of every dictum he’d learnt in school; every precept he’d had to absorb at the academy. ‘Anyone who leaves is…’

‘We only have _their_ word for it,’ she argued. Her face was flushed with passionate conviction now. ‘What if it’s not what they say?’

‘I can’t…’ he tried to counteract the pull, the magnetic force she exerted on him. Everything she’d said was a possibility, yet all his years of training told him to fear this: to fear anyone who told him anything but The Truth. And the truth was: they were safe here. Lives circumscribed, like a constricting belt around them. But still, they were safe.

…

He woke just before the dawn patrol. He’d frowned in his sleep, and a thin line had appeared just above the bridge of his nose. He tried to rub it away, but it was indelible.

That morning, he was paired up with a new officer. They didn’t talk much – they were discouraged from talking. He let the rookie take a look at the call sheet. House calls. _‘Gentle persuasion.’_ That was what they called it.

‘Let’s do this one first,’ said the new officer. ‘It’s right around here.’

Step-step-step-step-stepping. Round the corner. They were on his street. His heart rate ran erratically like a liar’s polygraph; his breath came in what he feared was audible gulps. No. No. No no no no no.

The house next to his had its windows wide open and music played softly, coming to greet him. He pictured her at her window, head tipped back, enjoying the feel of the breeze on her throat.

‘I’ll go in first,’ he told the newbie – ordered him to stand back. Marching through the house quicklystepping quickquickquick.

She was sitting as he’d imagined her: one leg curved gracefully over the windowsill, an open book in her lap. She’d been waiting.

‘Get out,’ he mouthed.

She tripped, dipped; disappeared out of sight.

He knew what was coming. They’d get the dogs out. The wind carried the scent. They would nudge an article of her clothing under each obedient muzzle. They would trace her to the riverbank, where the water was too wide to cross; the current too powerful.

He’d already made his choice: which side of the chase he was on. Wherever she went, he would follow. He was human. He was illogical. He was full of love and longing. He ran.

…

He reached the river with the shouts and barks of the chase cleaving through the air behind him. She was there: like he knew she’d be. Waiting for him. No longer walking in parallel. Lives combined, hands held tentatively soft and warm…

They leapt into the cold water, no time for thought or fear, and let the river carry them away.

More than a mile downstream, the current slowed just long enough for them to haul themselves out, to stand breathlessly bowed and shivering on the bank, listening out for the patrol pack.

‘They won’t follow us beyond this point,’ she said with certainty.

‘How do you know?’ he asked, impressed but incredulous. He doubled over, still gasping for air, fingers clasped against his knees in a form of weak support.

‘Because I know people here, on the outside. Humans. And synths. We come into the city to rescue people. People we think can be saved.’

‘And you thought I needed rescuing?’ He’d assumed that he’d rescued _her_. The realisation that the opposite was true made him bow and shake once again.

‘I saw you walking. Always walking, on patrol. On the surface, you seemed content, but I knew you were dissatisfied. That little line appeared, just above the bridge of your nose.’ She leant in to stroke his face, tenderly, placatory. Her fingertip touch was salvation.

‘Let’s sit here awhile,’ she suggested. ‘By the river. Watching the river flow reminds me there are beautiful sights in this world.’ Taking his hand, she guided him gently down beside her, while the sunlight on the water diffused into myriad illuminated sparks.

They’d walked in parallel so many times, he thought, but had never been this close. Through their soaked clothes, he felt the slowly returning warmth emanate from her skin.

It didn’t matter what was allowed any more. They were here, they were alive. They could begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Death Cab for Cutie song [‘Summer Years’](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/deathcabforcutie/summeryears.html) and the lyric ‘As we're walking lines in parallel / That will never meet and it's just as well’ 
> 
> Totally inspired by reading ‘Fahrenheit 451’ by Ray Bradbury, the first time Guy meets Clarisse, and how Clarisse tries to live her life. 
> 
> Written for the Synth Recharge Challenge on Tumblr, for the prompt 'Patrol'


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